Marked
by AquarianParadox
Summary: In a world when being different means to be on of the devils own Orihime was nearly killed by those who don't understand, only to be saved by a man who is the same as her. Marked. Bleach AU Shinji/Kisuke is the pairing, but later.


Orihime watched through the cracks of the shed as lightening flashed across the sky briefly lighting up the sparse landscape around her. Or so she assumed that it lit up everything, she only had a slim view of the world outside.

Leaning against the old thin wood that was all between her and the storm blowing outside she thanked the gods that at least it wasn't raining. Because even if she was shivering from the chill of the desert at night, and the drafty shed that did almost nothing to hinder the violent winds, at least she was dry.

She curled further upon herself, the roar of thunder shaking the world once more as she desperately tried not to cry. For while it was hard to be chilled, hungry, and in the middle of storm is a weak shelter Orihime knew that when the morning came it would only get worse. The men would come for her then, the preacher and the sheriff, and take her to gallows.

Small hands fisted the threadbare white shift that had been given to her in place of her usual clothes. _It isn't my fault I was born with it_, she thought to herself the tears Orihime had held back all day surfacing, _so why are they punishing me?_

When Orihime had been younger than she was now, maybe five years old, her brother had warned her to never let it be seen because people wouldn't understand. Being five years old she simply didn't get why she had to hide the mark that branded her under her left collar bone, but had obeyed her brother none the less. A year later, a year before her brother died, Orihime finally understood why she had to hide it.

One day a woman, a woman with the same mark, only hers was on her wrist, was dragged into the town square by the sheriff wearing only an over sized white shift. Her hand was raised to the gathering crowd, the mark bared for all to see, and the people around Orhime gasped while Sora tightened his hold upon her.

The preacher then stepped forward and proclaimed, "This woman has been kissed by the devil and this is the mark left by him! And we won't tolerate any evil within out wholesome community!"

Within his first few words the people were already jeering angrily at the woman who had broke down in near hysterical tears.

Orihime shrunk into her brothers side as the preacher went on a bit more before the sheriff dragged her to the tree and wrapped a rope around the woman's neck. To this day she can't recall exactly what happened after that, trauma induced forgetfulness no doubt. But even without the direct memory Orihime knew that the woman was hanged, and then her body left in the desert to be picked apart by the animals. It was what happened to those like her, the ones that bore the mark of the devil.

When she and Sora had got home after the public execution she had curled up in her brothers lap and he had pet her washed copper hair soothingly. They had stayed like that for a while. Each sibling trying to stop the fear that had arisen from witnessing the violent acts before. Eventually the mutual silence was broken by Orihime's warbling almost non existent voice.

"Am I really marked by the devil? The nun already said that red hair means that-"

Orihime was stopped mid ramble by her brother clutching her even tighter to his chest.

He kissed the top of her head and croaked out,"No, you aren't marked by the devil. They just fear what they don't understand. You are perfect Orihime, don't let them make you think otherwise."

They both cried then for how unfair the world was.

Just as Orihime cried now. Only she wasn't five years old anymore, she was eleven, and she didn't have her brother to seek comfort from, he had died five years ago.

Uncharacteristically she cried loudly, Orihime generally normally cried almost silently, because no matter how she wailed the continuous rolling thunder covered up her sounds of despair.

Just for tonight she would cry so tomorrow there would be nothing left in her to create tears. Orihime wasn't a very prideful person but she refused to cry in front of the mob that would kill her. None of those who wanted to murder her deserved to see her vulnerable. And so she cried until her throat was raw and until she had no more energy left and fell asleep despite the cold and roaring storm.

When she woke up the storm was gone. And for a second, barely a second, with stripes of sunlight that beamed in through the gaps in the wall warming her skin Orhime thought she was waking up from a small nap in her bed. But when she felt the sandy dirt beneath her, the way her short hair was tangled and matted, she remembered where she was.

Sitting up suddenly she tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes and wake up. Any moment the men would come to get her and Orihime didn't want to be caught unawares.

After she had brushed what dirt she could off of the shift she wore and untangled as much hair as she could she watched the only door of the shack intently. Be it in a moment or in an hour they would come for her, she just knew it.

Only, they didn't. Minutes turned into hours and as the sun traveled across the sky changing the patterns of the shadows no one came for her. Bleakly Orihime wondered if she had already died and just didn't remember it, and death was being locked up in a tiny shed with no comforts to be had.

It was when the day had nearly ended and her stomach was rumbling as it had been almost 48 hours since she'd last eaten that someone finally came.

Orihime was tired, but not so worn out as to not sit up straight when she heard the lock click open. Standing just seemed too hard to do at the moment but she could at least sit up right.

As the door swung open she mustered up the last of her courage to stare, no defiantly because as much as she wished it she just didn't have it in her, at the men who had finally come to escort her to be hung.

However the man standing in the doorway wasn't the Preacher O'Neil nor was it the Sheriff. In the doorway stood a man with hair the color of straw and wheat who wore a beat up old hat and clothes that were well worn and dusty. He smiled softly down at her in a way that made Orihime stiffen up afraid of this sudden unknown being thrown at her. No one had smiled at her since her mark had been found, and even before they didn't smile much at all.

"You're Orihime right?" he asked in a gentle voice.

She didn't answer him vocally but nodded jerkily.

"Well then," he said taking off his hat, "Would you like to come with me?"

Orhime's throat was parched beyond reason and so her voice was barely there when she responded, "Where to?"

"Somewhere safe."

And then he held out his hand, an invitation, a gesture of goodwill. She didn't hesitate to place her small hand in his larger slightly rougher one. Why? Because when the man had taken off his hat he had shown her a mark that matched her own that rested on his forehead. They were the same, marked by the devil.

Later that night when they rested around a bonfire meant for warmth it occurred to Orihime that she didn't know his name. Feeling only a little bit shy she vocalized her thoughts.

In return she got one of his soft smiles.

"Kisuke."

A/N: Unbeta-ed because I am lazy and stuff. I will fix any mistakes later. More importantly this is for my best friend who got a job today! I am so happy for you honey!


End file.
